


Into The Fire

by TrishaCollins



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Ardyn would like to go back to his cave please, Forced Kissing, Gen, Lots of non consensual touching, Start of episode Ardyn introspection, Threats
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2020-03-02 07:00:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18806080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrishaCollins/pseuds/TrishaCollins
Summary: Ardyn though he knew exactly what sort of torment the gods held in store for him. And then he was 'saved' by Besithia.It turns out, being locked in silence for two thousand years is a rather peaceful fate.





	Into The Fire

He woke somewhere over the sea, but the metal walls around him were too concerning and he lost himself to dreams again. Willing himself to sleep was a skill he was well practiced at. He had to be. The tomb of stone had allowed him little other option.

The straps across his chest were uncomfortable, confining, but not nearly as bad as the chains had been. Mostly, they were itchy. 

Which was a new sort of discomfort, and new was terrifying in its own way. He had become very used to his prison. He knew the small aches and twitches – the tears that healed when he shifted, after his skin had peeled away. The weight of his chains. 

What was happening? 

He had bestowed the Scourge. He had given it to that man. Was that the answer then? The way to rid himself of it? But to curse another? 

Gods, why. He had taken into his own soul the sins of another, and now he could grant it. Curse those who wronged him?

His stomach twisted unpleasantly at the thought, a remnant of hunger. A reminder of food, something he had smelled in the air. 

These…soldiers. They must be soldiers. Somnus army? 

Gods, how he craved the escape of sleep. How he craved the silence of his familiar tomb. 

But around him there was noise and life, living beings, beating hearts – he wasn’t sure if he could hear them or if it was simply another unraveling of his mind. 

“How is he?” 

His mind sharpened on that voice, identifying it as the one in charge. The one who had sought him out.

“Stable, sir. His body temperature was quite low, heart rate bizarrely slow as well. But it seems to be regulating in normal levels.” A voice answered. 

“And has he woken again?” 

“Briefly when we struck the chains from his ankles.” The voice answered, calm.

“Have you managed the samples I requested yet?” The commanding voice demanded. 

“Not yet, sir. The turbulence has been bad. We worried about breaking a needle in his skin.” 

“Hm.” A hand settled on his chest, stroking possessively as one might touch a bird in the yard before mounting. 

It made his body tense, though he forced his eyes to remain closed.

“Ah, you are awake.” The hand became firmer on his stomach, lending to the feeling of his skin trying to crawl away. “Open your eyes, Adagium.” 

He turned his head away, staring at the wall of this strange contraption rather than the man above him. 

Fingers grasped his chin, forcing him to turn and look at the man. “Beautiful. Beyond my wildest dreams.” Possessive fingers stroked his cheeks, down his neck.

He had never felt more vulnerable in his life, not even when he had lain near death at Somnus feet. He felt very exposed. 

He turned, trying to break the hold. But the man above him only laughed. 

“Strip him, we can at least manage that until we land. I want to see what he hides beneath those rags.”

“No.” His voice trembled, making the words feel less sure. “No.”

But the man either did not hear him or did not care. He was unstrapped from the bed, unsteady on his feet as he was dragged to them by the soldiers. 

“A wonder the fabric survived for this long.” His captor mused. 

He tried to twist away, but there were so many hands on him, intent on unbuckling his belt and stripping him of what little modesty remained to him. The cold hitting skin that had not been exposed in so many years made him freeze in place, fine tremors shuddering through him. 

“Take the fabric for study. I wonder if it was him that made them last.” His captor ordered, as the bundle of fabric was picked up. 

“Tho-those are mine.” He whispered, voice shaky, reaching for his clothes. 

Hands held him back, pulled him up to face his captor’s scrutiny. He shivered at the look, at the violation. He was filthy, he knew that. Bands of dirt and sweat where the chains had rubbed and bound him. 

The man reached out and pressed the hand again to his stomach, curling possessively around his hip.

“Stop.” He rasped. Was he speaking the same language? Had he forgotten how to speak? Could they hear him at all? From the cold look in the eyes of his captor it appeared not. 

“If you only knew how much I have sacrificed for you.” His captor murmured. 

The knot of dread in his stomach surged into his throat, a shiver going all the way down his spine. 

“Do you have a name?” His captor asked, eager, fascinated. Still touching him. Still stroking a hand over his skin like a lover might, only they were not lovers and he did not want this violation to continue. 

“I want my clothes.” He said, aware of his pitiful he sounded. 

The words were again ignored, his captor circling the soldiers as though they were not there. They were only props in this game that was being played. 

He twisted his head to watch when the man went behind him, startled sound escaping him when a piece of hair was simply ripped from his head and lowered into a strange tube. 

He thought about struggling, but the clarity he had experienced for moments when his life was threatened was apparently quite absent when it was only discomfort and violation he faced. The hands on him held him in place as surely as any restrain ever had. 

“I cannot wait until we land.” The captor said behind him. “I cannot wait to see what hides under your skin.” 

Flesh near his shoulder was pinched, standing up where it was savaged. He tried to pull away, but the fingers twisted, digging into his skin until he felt the curse bubble up through his skin. 

Another tube appeared, scraping away at his skin. It was capped and put into a box. 

“Strap him back to the couch. I will continue my examination there.” 

He fought – or tried – soft protests escaping him as they pressed him back into his former confinement. An expected bout of claustrophobia struck him, and he flailed – not that it did any good. His panicked squirming only made his captor laugh. 

It ended the same. His hands strapped down at his side, strap across his chest and stomach, straps holding his feel down. 

“I won’t gag you. You marvel.” The hands were back, skimming up his chest and stomach. 

It was humiliating. It was disgusting. In some small part of his mind he longed for this, to be touched – but not like this, not by this man who looked at him with such hunger in his eyes. His nails were cleaned with something that smelled sharp and horrible, then they were trimmed into yet more jars which were secreted away. A cloth with the same sharp smelling liquid was used on his chest, and then his skin was scraped away. More jars. 

A needle pricked his fingertip, and the blood was squeezed into an even smaller tube. 

He squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to sleep. Willing his mind to be still and to steal him away. But it would not. In the quiet of his prision he could will himself to sleep, but with those hands on his body he found himself unable.

“sir. We are about to land.” 

Hands pressed against his chest. “Very well. We will finish this in my lab.” The cruel voice of his captor whispered. 

He was shocked at the soft sob that escaped him. He had thought he had experienced every torment there was to be exposed to, he thought he knew it. But this…this was worse than being forgotten in the dark. 

A blanket was tossed over him like a shroud, covering his entire body. It was a relief, even if it was a short lived one as the bed – ‘couch’ – was wheeled off the strange transport and into cold air. He shifted his head – wanting to see the sky, but when the blanket moved he saw only a city piled high, the sky lit with unnatural light. He froze, dumbfounded, until they were inside again. 

And then they were in a place so white that it felt dead, and the blanket was taken away. 

“He has been surprisingly passive thus far, very few protests. It is quite possible that his long imprisonment had addled him in some way.” His captor said to no one at all, lifting a long needle from a table and advancing on the bed. 

He braced himself for the pain, and watched with terrified fascination as his blood was draw into a series of small black vials. Some held the red he knew his blood to be, and others were badly contaminated with the scourge. 

He was still as pieces were cut from his skin. 

“Remarkable healing factor. Perhaps that is what kept him alive over all of these centuries?” The captor mused to himself. He also said things like ‘research log’ which made him appear quite foolish. 

“Take him and scrub him down, then bring him back to me. I will observe.” The captor ordered at last, when it seemed that he had taken all he wanted. 

The shower was strange, and smelled terrible. The water was cold enough that he found himself shivering, looking at the men who had dragged him into it. They were stone faced, wrapping him in a scratchy sort of robe when they were done, hair dripping on the shoulders as he was taken back into the main space. 

“You do not know how much I have sacrificed for you, Adagium.” The man stated, holding a glass in his hand and sipping at the contents. 

He tugged at his sleeves, bowing his head. The material was very strange, and he didn’t much like it. But he preferred it very much to being naked before this man. 

“I am certain you must have questions?” The man asked, approaching him. 

“My clothes.” He whispered. “Where are they?” 

The man laughed, shaking his head. “Do not worry yourself over those old rags. They are nothing.” The hand cupped his cheek, lifting his chin. 

The kiss was quick, leaving a fruity sort of residue behind, and he stepped back almost immediately to break it. “No.”

“’No?’” Another laugh, fingers catching on the robe and dragging him forward into another, rougher kiss. 

It turned his stomach, made him shiver. 

“You cannot say no to me.” The man told him as he pulled away. 

He glared at his back, drawling himself up, before the spark of whatever it was faded, shoulders slumping with defeat. 

“You have nowhere else to go. No one else will protect you.” His captor said coolly. “You can be my prisoner here, or my guest. But I suggest you choose quickly. Or else I will chose for you. Won’t that be fun?” 

Bile churned his gut, he turned his head away. “What do you wish of me?” 

“Your name, to start, and then your company at dinner. I have a great many questions for you.” 

“Ardyn.” He muttered, resentful, trapped. 

“Ardyn.” His captor said. “Ardyn. Interesting. Come now, we will have dinner.” 

He wanted his clothes, not this flimsy, scratchy robe. But he did not wish to discover how much worse it could get. 

Head down, he followed the man into the other room. Submitting his will for the moment.


End file.
